Wordless Wednesday: My Garden Mythology as Seen by Examining My Roots (Home, on the Sandy River, and in the Gorge)

Achillea 'Moonshine'. 

Sicilian Honey Garlic, (Allium siculum aka Nectaroscordum).

Lamb's Ears (Stachys byzantina) and an Armeria.  

Dutch Iris, Iris x hollandica.

Miniature Climbing Rose, (Rosa 'Clove Love and Kisses'). 

Columbine, (Aquilegia 'McKana's Giant'.) 

Clematis 'Mrs. N. Thompson'. 

Growing up beside streams and rivers in the PNW this is how I learned to arrange rocks. Funny I still do this in my garden. (Note the fly fishing going on in the background. Fish are to my family as plants are to me.)

Great landscaping at the Bonneville Fish Hatchery in the Columbia River Gorge. (I think those white flowers are Queen Anne's Lace, Daucus carota.)

Salal (Gaultheria shallon) with a delicate white bloom—such a great native plant. 

Native rose growing along the Columbia River. 

Native Sedum. 

Oregon Iris, (Iris tenax) in front of the Multnomah Falls Lodge.

Green Walls—PNW style. 

My favorite little native Mimulus still clings to the wall at Multnomah Falls. This year the population looks a bit larger.  

Had to zoom into the falls to get a closer look at the exposed roots of this tree or shrub. 

A Few Blooms of Summer and the Plant Path Ahead

As summer begins to wind down here in the Pacific Northwest (and we enter into my favorite time of year), I thought it might be a nice time to review a few beautiful blooms of summer.

Many of these images are older ones—so forgive me if you've seen them before somewhere on here.

Love-in-a-mist after it's finished blooming (Nigella damascena).

The traditional school year begins soon. Maybe you've noticed all of the back-to-school fanfare and hoopla whenever you go shopping? I know I walk into stores wondering what back-to-school plants look like but I'm still not sure.

(Let me know if you have a clue. Somebody must have marketed something for just this occasion. I just know it.)

California Poppy, (Eschscholzia californica).

So, maybe this might be a good time to mention that I've finally taken into consideration how many folks I've been chatting with recently who've mentioned that I should stop acting like such an amateur and admit to the fact that maybe I could grow beyond where I've been making circles in the dirt with my fingers. (This is how I perceive their thoughts on the subject. I may have filtered their comments through some rather large tumblers of gin and tonic this past weekend so I'm a bit fuzzy on exactly what they said, but I got the gist of it.)

Large-leaved Lupine, (Lupinus polyphyllus). 

Ok, darling friends of mine, you win (and I know at least one of you regularly reads my posts so thank you C).

Western Columbine, (Aquilegia formosa) along the Smith River in CA.

I'm going to admit to having an aptitude for the sport, but with some reservations. As I write this, straddling my words loosely between images of an Aquilegia and Mimulus I shot while visiting the Smith River in Northern California last year, I should mention that right after I took these pictures I fell and gave myself severe whiplash.

Just sayin'.

Common Monkey-flower, (Mimulus guttatus) along the Smith River in CA. 

But let's get back to some of those summer blooms [insert awkward transition here].

There are so many amazing little plants and blooms for our sentimental green souls to treasure and like so many others, I have that insanely nerdy desire to know how, where, and why they grow. That's why many of the plants you see here I've grown from seed at some point, or else I had plans to play with that process this past year, but it had to be postponed until now. 

Yes, I can "announce" too that I will be back to my old routine soon and the basement will be filled with light and life this winter and I will stratify outside and I will be so happy about it. 

Yes, it's these subtle little touches in the natural world which matter and are important. It's these blooms that often have idiots like me coming back over and over. 

Calico Monkey-flower, (Mimulus pictus) at Annie's Annuals & Perennials.

Some of them are just amazing and you know of few other sights quite like them.

Sticky Phacelia (Phacelia viscida) at Annie's Annuals & Perennials.

I don't think I even need to mention what blue blooms do for a lot of people—myself included.

Rose Snapdragon, (Antirrhinum multiflorum) at Annie's Annuals & Perennials.

Some flowers you just want to touch and caress, and you wonder if you should purchase a whole new wardrobe based upon their merits—or at least a new pair of boots or some nail polish. (OK, maybe it's just me who thinks like this but I am becoming more and more convinced by messages I receive that a lot more oddballs are out there. Raise your hands! I know you're reading this right now.) 

Sticky Monkey-flower, (Mimulus aurantiacus) at UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley. 

But then there are the glowing blooms that brighten your way and shine a light down that plant path we must all wander down.

Mexican Prickly Poppy, (Argemone mexicana) at UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley.

I remember visiting the UC Botanical Garden at Berkeley for the first time and remembering how funny I used to think it was that my friend Sean Hogan worked as a curator there. As someone who'd studied art history, I'd never thought of curation taking place outside of an art museum or gallery. So I looked around and thought about how much visual literacy mattered in both of these arenas. 

I knew that I fit in when I thought about having compared hundreds of Christ images as an undergraduate and how that ability could easily overlap with a survey, say, of Agave—or any other group of plants. So similar to most, yet some of us just have a knack for discerning subtle differences—and these differences often matter a great deal and they tell us a lot. 

I'm not great at that game but I can spot and identify seed heads at great distances in their natural environment—sometimes while driving a car. It's a skill—a very strange one, but it's part of this whole process. 

Prickly Pear, or Opuntia bloom. 

I remember walking around, looking at the students and employees, and I thought about how sad I was that I'd been unable to complete the plant path long ago. I had to turn around defeated before I'd even really gone very far. 

My illness made physical activity and a lot of technical work too difficult. I had to slow down and at times I just didn't make much progress at all. My mind didn't work as well and I no longer had near perfect grades. It took years to discover I had swelling in my brain that was impeding me and inhibiting my growth as a person. I was trapped inside and I struggled for years to find the words to describe what I was experiencing. 

I turned to art to soothe and stimulate my mind. 

I moved indoors, inside of myself. Later I moved indoors because I had no choice. My immune reactions disallowed me from being outside. I had to look out the window and I started to play with seeds to keep the hope alive. 

Life circumstances prevented me from being able to return to any of these green dreams until these last few months. Now they surround me again and I am surround by green friends too who've made me feel so welcome despite my typically stylish and late arrival. Just when I wanted to give up hope after nearly 18 years things started to unravel in very mysterious ways. 

What matters is that I've arrived and I know why I'm here now and what I want to be doing. After a really long time, I feel like I've finally grown and that at long last I truly bloomed this summer. I've never felt like this before but I'm getting used to it. 

Elegant Clarkia, (Clarkia unguiculata). 

It's one foot in front of the other once again but this time I get to laugh and walk because I want to do so—not because I have to or need to do so. My load is so much lighter now—literally too. 

My mind is calm and silent now and I'm open to what's ahead of me. I have the mental space again and have found my old quiet personal nature waiting there for me. It was there all along waiting for me to be well enough to come by and pick it up and wear it again as my second skin. It's warmed me to the core to be myself again, and as time goes on, and I keep at this, I hope to better understand and explain my dormancy. 

Until that time, I will revel in the simplest of things, the blooms of summer and the magic they bring to gardeners and plant lovers around the world. I'm a believer and if you're here reading this, you probably are too. 

From Seeds to Seeds: Seed Harvesting and Happiness

Happiness is not something I usually discuss publicly but today I am brimming with it. Sure, the world is currently a bit crazy—and I acknowledge and care about that—but right here at my house, it's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. I joke not, seriously, and I mean this both figuratively and literally.

For me, seed collecting currently feels like opening tiny gifts wrapped in crinkly sun-dried seed pod papers. Funny that after that is done, I wrap them up in cute little origami envelopes and store them until they are sold in my online store! As many of you know, Christmas shopping often begins early and as usual, I am seeing sales from early shoppers. When I hear that folks are buying seeds for someone for Christmas though it makes me so happy. These are gifts that will give back in return if properly cared for by a gardener—sometimes for years!

Milton's Garden Menagerie (located on Etsy.com) has been a wonderful experience for a chronically ill woman who was terribly confused about how to take that next step in her life. At first I wasn't really sure what I was doing with it and I doubted myself a great deal, but now that it has been almost 2 years and as it nears a viable business status, I think I can say I did it mostly—for the love of seeds! Saying that loud and proud makes me happy today too. 

Each time I collect seeds it's exciting no matter where I am. When I collect seeds from plants I've grown from seed it is even more exciting. This year, for the first time, my gardening friend down the street is letting me harvest from her garden too. Since she is 100% natural in her garden I have no problem collecting her seeds—especially when they are from plants I have sold to her at some point. 

Here are plants I've grown from seed that I am collecting seeds from this year for my Milton's Garden Menagerie harvest:

Tube Clematis, Clematis heracleifolia.

Variegated Honesty, Lunaria annua 'Variegata'.

Heirloom White Single Hollyhock, Alcea rosea. 

Cardinalflower, Lobelia cardinalis.

Great Blue Lobelia, Lobelia siphilitica.

White Rose Campion, Lychnis coronaria 'Alba' or Silene coronaria 'Alba'. 

Maximilian's Sunflower, Helianthus maximilianii.

Sticky Monkey Flower, Mimulus cardinalis.

Bottlebrush Grass, Elymus hystrix.

Then there are the plants I did not grow, but from which I am able to harvest seeds from this year. 

Sticky Phacelia, Phacelia viscida.

Smoke Tree, Cotinus coggygria.

Blue Love-in-a-Mist, Nigella damascena.

Tall Alumroot, Heuchera chlorantha.

Lewis Flax, Linum lewisii.

Pale Corydalis, Corydalis sempervirens.

Adding to all the hectic seed collecting there are the other things too. On my most recent trip to the Seattle area I came home with this gem. It, along with many others, will be planted in the coming weeks. 

Blechnum chilense.

The fern is native to China and can grow up to 6' tall in some places. It is evergreen in my climate so I am very curious to see what it will do. It spreads by underground runners and I've read that it can be invasive but no word on this yet in my area. I guess I will have to see what happens and in the meantime I'll enjoy it as much as I can while it is still docile and not a screeching teen.

And during my copious amounts of free time I will begin working with my many Douglas fir cones. I need to make some new wreaths and holiday decorations because if I continue only using wine corks, someone is seriously going to think we have a drinking problem in our home.

More happy news to come in the following week so stay tuned!

Stopping to Smell the Roses

Sometimes it is difficult to write about gardening when you are chronically unwell or injured. After suffering my third serious fall in four months, I am in this position right now. Two of the falls occurred here at home, in my own garden, and the other happened when I was walking beside a river in the California Redwoods. 

The most noble red Hollyhock at Al's Garden Center in Gresham, OR. 

I have been spending a lot of time reflecting and I won't lie, it is kind of strange to realize I somehow ended up being more worried about my plants outside than for myself. My husband had to get back to the vineyard in California, and I was here on my own with a seriously sprained ankle, two sprained fingers on my right hand, and a wounded elbow. 

After nine days, the two fingers on my right hand can still barely bend and my ankle is swollen but the bruising has gone away—mostly. I am so tired of all of this resting and waiting for things to heal or improve. My last fall, the one in California, gave me whiplash, and now this! I have spent weeks resting this spring and summer. I have not felt well and it is hard to see beauty sometimes when you don't feel well. Pain and its management has to be your priority but deep inside I have felt so bad. It's as if I've been ditching my best friend.

This past weekend my respite child was the garden girl. She's the kind young woman who left a teddy bear on my bed too. I am supposed to care for him until she comes back in a few weeks, but I know she left him here to look after me. 

She honestly did help me with my plants, and we fed them and she asked me lots of questions about how to do everything. It brought back so many memories of when I was a young girl.

Antirrhinum braun-blanquetii.

We ran some garden errands, but we took our time because of my foot. I have a "boot" for it, but that is no way to get around quickly. 

We talked a bit about garden styles, and garden plants, but she has a hard time with categories beyond her own experience. We talked about that too. Sometimes it's amazing when a mind opens a door to you and you are really able to help someone over a hurdle. I think for a time, she forgot her worries, and I forgot my own.

Mimulus cardinalis.

On the way home on Saturday, I pulled the car over to show her this stand of Fireweed. I told her how much I looked forward to its blooming every year. I am not sure she's ever been in a car with anyone who stops to look at flowers beside the road. I am happy to have been that person for her.

Fireweed or Epilobium angustiolium. 

After I dropped my visitor off with her full-time foster parent last night, I finally got around to cleaning up the porch. I finally planted this beautiful succulent but I am afraid I've misplaced its label. I know that it is hardy down to zone 9 and that its flowers are fragrant. The blooms are reminiscent of an ice plant, but the stems are very different. They look like chubby little dinosaur limbs. I must find the name soon so that when I collect its seeds I can label it properly.

Oscularia deltoides.